


Hearts and Holly

by Pas_Cal



Series: Gallantry of Gilbert [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Feel-good, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pas_Cal/pseuds/Pas_Cal
Summary: Gilbert and Matthew still haven’t hooked up yet, and Francis seems to be the only one to notice this. He sets about with a plan to fix the problem at hand, but it may end up with a few bloody noses…Or perhaps just a fist full of snow down his pants…





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted December of 2009  
> Rewritten February of 2017

* * *

  _Blessed is the season…_

* * *

No one knew love better than Francis. No one knew the workings of such a thing, the wonders it beheld or the meaning behind the word. Not a single soul could grasp the sheer significance of it, or how empty the world would be without it. Love was a thing someone found hard to escape, and once caught, almost impossible to deny. It was such a heady feeling that made you light on your toes, but heavy in the head; heavy with happiness and warmth and smiles…

Yes, Francis was _quite_ sure he was the only one to fully comprehend such a feeling. He was the embodiment of _France_ , after all.

And yet…

And yet as he walked next to his friend, gazing at the way his eyes would light up at the mention of a particular name, or the way his cheeks would slowly turn pink without his knowing, Francis couldn’t help but wonder just how someone could completely deny such a profound emotion. His friend would gesture wildly talking about this man, his face split in a grin. He’d laugh as he reminisced, nudging Francis every once in a while when he slipped in an innuendo or two.

Love had a habit of working in mysterious ways, of course. It had a way of breaking things and throwing tantrums, yet it also had a habit of consoling people and warming their hearts. Love could be harsh. It could be sweet. Bitter. Or, as he noticed with his dear oblivious friend, love could be just out of sight for one to see it, yet clear as day for everyone else. Much like a note taped to the back of one’s shirt; they don’t know it’s there, but everybody else can see it quite plainly.

Gilbert was the prime example of this kind of love. As the albino continued talking animatedly about pancakes and hockey and whatever else seemed to cross his mind in the moment, Francis chuckled softly to himself.

It was almost too perfect when he thought about it.

Gilbert, a man who claimed he had no need for love or friendship, had indeed fallen into cupid’s little trap, albeit unknowingly. The poor Prussian was most definitely in love with someone, but didn’t realize it.

Love like this tended to be the best, in Francis’ opinion, simply because it was always filled with excitement. Now, being the expert he was, Francis also knew that this sort of love needed a little push in the right direction. One couldn’t simply let two people in denial of their feelings for one another _stay_ in denial, or else nothing could be gained. Asking Gilbert about his current relationship would do nothing to help the little problem along, as the stupid man was just a little too stubborn and thick in the head.

But Matthew? His little Matthew? What would the poor boy say if he brought up the subject?

Francis had a sneaking suspicion that the Canadian would simply turn down the statement head on, saying Gilbert wasn’t the kind of man to fall in love and that he himself had gotten along just fine without entering any relationships.

That wouldn’t do, oh no. That wouldn’t do _at all_.

As the two men turned onto the small walkway leading up to Matthew’s house, Francis found himself smiling. Beaming was more of the proper term, actually. The reason behind such an expression was for the simple fact that he could see a plan unfolding before him. The time of year was all too perfect for his little idea. When Matthew opened the door to his house, smiling ever so timidly like he usually did, he greeted them _both_ with a rather fond hug. Francis walked in, grinning broadly with a bit of a bounce in his step.

Yes, Christmas had to be one of his favourite times of year. Although he loved being with friends and family, that wasn’t the reason why. No, the reason was very simple and you could find it hanging under most doorways.

His reason for loving Christmas so much?

Mistletoe. 

* * *

_…which engages the whole world…_

* * *

 It was a very mild holiday celebration. Nothing more than a small gathering of family, plus one. Gilbert seemed perfectly at home, regardless. Francis had to wonder just how often Gilbert visited to know where Matthew kept the alcohol, and why it was Matthew had gone out of his way to secure a stock of very specific beer. Köstritzer Schwarzbier, to be exact. He eyed Gilbert almost knowingly as the albino sauntered into the kitchen to fetch himself a bottle.

Most everyone else had opted for wine, or in Alfred’s case, hot chocolate.

“You know, _Prusse_ ,” Francis began, watching Matthew, Alfred, and Arthur huddle around the coffee table, engrossed in a game of poker, “things between _Angelterre_ and I have gone along quite smoothly.”

“Good for you.” Gilbert replied rather disinterestedly as he watched Arthur lay down a royal flush and demand his winnings before dealing the next round.

“Oh, no need to be excited for me, Gilbert. Please calm yourself.” Francis teased, smiling widely as he sipped at his wine. Gilbert at least responded with a snort to his sass, lips pulling up into a crooked grin.

The two of them sat rather ostracized on the couch from the game. Something about the two of them being cheaters, as well as Francis’ adamancy in playing a more risqué form of poker. For whatever reason, the others didn’t seem too keen on playing strip poker against the embodiment of _France_.

Gilbert leaned back into the couch, stretching his legs to get a little more comfortable. “Well, it’s not exactly my business, is it?” He finally continued. “You and Artie do your own thing, an’ I do mine.” Gilbert shrugged nonchalantly, tipping back his bottle to take a swig.

“Yes, I’ve been rather curious as to what your thing is, these days. Still riding the coat tails of your dear younger brother?” Francis sniffed. Gilbert shot him a sidelong glare.

“Only reason Lutz even _has_ any coat tails is ‘cause of me. Don’t forget that.” He said tersely. Francis merely smiled and stifled a chuckle. Gilbert let his gaze fall back on the game just as Matthew put down his winning hand. “He works; I keep the house in order. Takin’ care o’ the dogs and garden, and so on.” He shifted to sit up a bit straighter, turning the bottle of beer between his fingers idly.

“So you’re a housewife.” Francis supplied smugly. Gilbert reached out and swatted him upside the head.

“I’m a productive member of the family,” Gilbert bit out, “unlike _you_.”

“Still sounds like a housewife to me.” Francis mumbled around his glass, unfazed. “What else?”

“What do you mean, ‘what else’?”

“Well surely chores aren’t all your good for, non? Perhaps a side job or a love affair…”

Gilbert let out a loud laugh at the last bit, briefly drawing the attention of the poker players. “Yeah right. Me?” He shook his head. “Yer out of your damn mind.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible, I don’t think. You must be interested in someone.” Francis hummed.

“Not your business.” Gilbert said succinctly in an attempt to shut the conversation down. Naturally, Francis didn’t fall for it. He shifted to face Gilbert more directly, ready to gossip and speculate. Gilbert wriggled uncomfortably under his gaze, scowling ahead.

“Matthew is single.” Francis said, garnering an annoyed “ _Papa!_ ” from the mentioned man sat across the table from them. Alfred stifled his laughter while Arthur cast an exasperated look their direction.

Gilbert ruffled, shooting Francis another sidelong glare. “Yeah? So what?” He responded dryly, raising his bottle for another drink.

“Perhaps you should ask him on a date.”

Gilbert snorted beer out his nose while Matthew put down his cards rather frustratedly.

“I’m right _here_ , Papa. Quit talking about me like I don’t exist.”

“But mon fils, surely you can’t just dismiss the possibility?” Francis arched his brows as he looked toward the Canadian. “Better yet, _you_ should ask _Gilbert_. That would be something.” He grinned almost wickedly despite the glowers he received.

“I’d sure like to see _that_.” Arthur grumbled. “Gilbert, of all people, in a _relationship_.”

“Eh, I’d think he’d do a good job.” Alfred said, shuffling his cards. “He’s a big softy.”

“I am _not_.” Gilbert cut in irritatedly. “I’m a _badass_.”

“You cried over Kuma when you first met him because you thought he was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.” Matthew cut in rather amusedly, eliciting chuckles from the others. Gilbert’s cheeks had turned a rather devastating shade of pink.

“You promised you’d never tell anyone that…”

“Did I?” Matthew hummed, picking up his cards once more before placing his bet. “Funny. Can’t seem to recall that.”

“Come on, Mattie, spare what dignity he’s got left.” Alfred cackled, sliding a small stack of poker chips forward.

“I’m not quite sure he has any.” Arthur added dryly, adding to the pile.

“Would you all _quit_ it!?” Gilbert snapped, sounding desperate almost. “I got plenty of dignity left! An’ I got enough strength to kick all of your asses still, too! Even you, Yankee.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Matthew before continuing. “And don’t think that just ‘cause your cute, I won’t take you on either.”

“Aww, you think I’m cute?” Matthew grinned. “That’s so sweet.”

“Shut up, it was an insult!”

Francis clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of the others. “See!?” He cheered. “You’re perfect together!”

“You bring that up again and I’m shovin’ a fistful full of snow down your pants.” Gilbert threatened.

“Do it as a Christmas gift? For me?” Francis asked hopefully. Once Gilbert made a move to stand, however, Francis immediately bolted for the front door.

“Oh, for christ’s sake.” Arthur groaned, watching the two of them chase one another out the door. “They’re _children_.”

* * *

_…in a conspiracy of love._

* * *

Matthew wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the situation at hand. He watched rather dumbly from his porch as two grown men (who were quite literally _centuries_ old) chased one another in the snow. Francis was laughing quite giddily. Gilbert, on the other hand, was spewing every obscenity he could think of at the Frenchmen.

“You’ve got some nerve!” Gilbert shouted, cranking back his arm to chuck a snowball at Francis. It was swiftly avoided, however. “My love life is no business of yours!”

“Oh, _please_ , Gilbert. You do realize what nation I represent, don’t you? It’s the very nature of my _being_.”

“An’ mine is kickin’ your’ sorry scrawny ass.”

Alfred stood next to his brother, sipping at his hot cocoa as he watched the battle before them. “This stuff is pretty good.” He commented idly. “You do somethin’ special with it?”

“Cinnamon,” Matthew replied, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “and almond extract.”

“Delicious. Homemade, or packaged?”

“Homemade.” Matthew sniffed. “You think we should stop them…?”

“Nah,” Alfred grinned, “let ‘em go on a few more minutes. I wanna live feed it on facebook.” Matthew snorted in response, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the porch deck idly.

Arthur eventually joined them, scowling at the brawl before them. “Did I miss anything good?”

“Francis shoved a snowball in Gilbert’s face.”

“Drat. Would’ve liked to see that.”

Gilbert and Francis scrabbled in the snow. Occasionally, Gilbert would manage to tackle Francis to the ground, but the Frenchmen easily managed to elbow his way free before Gilbert could make do with his threat from earlier.

“Ask him, and I’ll stop!” Francis laughed, hopping back as Gilbert scrambled to snag his ankles from on the ground.

“No!” Gilbert snapped. “And quit askin’!” He jumped to his feet and made a grab for Francis’ jacket, but he was quickly outmaneuvered. It wasn’t but a second later that Francis had smashed a ball of snow on the back of his head.

“He’s gonna kill the poor guy.” Alfred laughed, holding up his phone to record the entertainment.

“Good riddance.” Arthur grumbled.

“Oh, come on.” Matthew chided. “You’d both miss him and you know it.”

The conversation abruptly ended when a snowball went whizzing straight into Matthew. He stood there, mouth open in shock as he looked toward the offender.

Gilbert seemed just as astonished as he did, eyes wide and chest heaving from the exertion. “That…uh…” he breathed heavily, “that wasn’t meant for you. I was aimin’ for the frog.”

Alfred let out a small “oooh”, panning the camera on his phone between the two of them. Francis had taken the opportunity to dive into the bushes for cover while Arthur disappointedly hung his head in his hands.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt, you’ve stepped in it, now.” Matthew tugged his sleeves up despite the cold and started to step off the porch.

Gilbert went pale. “N-now wait a minute, Mattie, this was Francis’ fault, alright? He started it, I was just—”

“I’m gonna finish it.” Matthew cut in, looking eerily calm as he leaned down to scoop up a fist full of snow. He began to pack it into a ball, still treading Gilbert’s way.

It was a rather terrifying sight, despite the innocent circumstances. Matthew seemed a rather looming figure before Gilbert, despite a maximum of half an inch being the difference in their heights. The situation brought forth the distinct reminder that Matthew was not _entirely_ as calm and pacifistic as people made him out to be. He was, in fact, the second largest country in the world, after all.

Gilbert raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back with each one Matthew took forward to keep the distance even between them. “I give, alright? It’s over! Put the snowball down, Mattie, come on, let’s, uh…let’s discuss this like reasonable men, okay?”

A split second later and Gilbert took that very snowball to the face. He sputtered, spitting out bits of snow as he hastily wiped the rest of it off with his sleeve. He watched as Matthew continued to advance, gathering up another snowball. Slowly, he sank to his knees, hands still in the air.

“Wait!” Francis called. “Just a moment! One moment!” He dashed out from his hiding place to stand behind Gilbert. Once he was in place, he motioned for Matthew to continue before reaching into his pocket.

Two steps, and Matthew stopped again, frowning as he watched Francis.

“What are you doing…?” He asked slowly, gaze flickering down to the object clutched between his fingers. Gilbert was rather unaware of it, given he was facing away. He did try to crane his neck around to look, but Francis merely shifted the object out of his line of sight.

“Just go with it, Matthew.” Francis urged, grinning widely. “It’s tradition, non? You can’t ignore tradition.”

“Go with _what_?” Gilbert asked frustratedly, looking toward Matthew for answers. “What’s he doing!?” Then his gaze flickered to the onlookers on the porch, who had both started laughing. “ _What!?_ ”

He went rigid when Matthew closed the distance and smashed the snowball on top of Gilbert’s head. He let out a rather ridiculous sounding squawk, eyes cinching shut against the rapidly melting snow and bits of ice dripping over his face.

He felt a set of cold fingers grab him by the chin. Gilbert squinted as Matthew crouched in front of him, and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was brief, but shocking enough that Gilbert went silent and still, eyes wide and mouth open in shock as Matthew leaned back. Alfred cheered in the background rather loudly, letting out an excited “Holy _shit_ , he did it!”

“What uh…what just happened there…?” Gilbert asked dumbly, still unsure if what had just happened had _actually_ happened.

Matthew shrugged, cheeks tinted a light pink despite himself. “Tradition’s tradition.” He then motioned for Gilbert to look up.

Francis had dangled mistletoe over his head.

Gilbert stared in mild horror, eventually turning his gaze back toward Matthew. “You kissed me.” He said numbly.

“I did.”

“You… _kissed_ me.”

“Yup.”

Gilbert let out a breath that fogged up in the cold air. A moment or two more passed, and he finally seemed to come to terms with the events that had just transpired. He nodded slowly, still looking rather taken aback. “Alright. Okay. That happened.” He cleared his throat, looking back toward the Frenchman stood behind him. “Francis?”

“Oui, mon ami?” He chirped happily in response.

It was short lived, as a split second later Gilbert had grabbed him by the belt loops and shoved a handful of snow down the front of his pants.

Francis all but _screeched_ as the others dissolved into fits of laughter.

Love was a tricky little emotion that invoked the strangest of feelings. It left people confused, or bashful, or stubborn. Occasionally it left others jealous and upset, or just downright angry.

But it also brought happiness (even if occasionally at the misfortune of others).

Love had a way of working in mysterious ways, and it was the love that remained unseen until the last minute that fascinated Francis the most.

All it took was a little push in the right direction to illicit something so pure and joyous and _exciting_.

He never regretted making that push for others, although perhaps in this one circumstance he could have gone without the fistful of snow near the end.

The bitter chill only lasted so long. Eventually he was able to stand once more, and watched as Matthew and Gilbert helped one another up to their feet, each grinning despite themselves, cheeks a little rosier than before.

It wasn’t a flawless job, but the end result was still satisfactory.

“Hey, love birds!” Alfred called from the porch. “We gonna open presents any time soon!?”

“Oh, yes please.” Francis laughed airily. “I don’t suppose any of you by chance gifted me a change of pants?”

* * *

 

_“We love, because it’s the only true adventure.”_

_-Nikki Giovani_

* * *

 


End file.
